Balance of Control
by bellakitse
Summary: "Maybe it's not about you not giving up the reins; maybe it's about him not being man enough to take them."


**Title: Balance of Control**

**Category: The Unusuals**

**Ship: Casey/Jason**

**Rated: M**

**Word Count: 2259**

**Prompt# 76- Control**

**Summary: "Maybe it's not about you not giving up the reins; maybe it's about him not being man enough to take them."**

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She looks over to where he's sleeping, on his side towards her. His relaxed face is inches from hers, she can feel his breath on her cheek and while his body is at ease, his hand is clutching her waist. They have gone from what they were to this with surprising ease. One day they are partners; he's with Allison and she's trying hard to make it work with Davis to be the girl he wants by being a girl, by letting him be the 'man' in the relation. And her and Walsh? Are just that, her and Walsh. They have each other's backs, they're friends. Then she turns around and Allison is gone and Davis is tired of it. She and Walsh are all of a sudden, Casey and Jason.

xxx

They sit at his diner commiserating over their lousy love lives over even lousier eggs he has made for her.

"He said I'm always the man." She comments as she takes a gulp of beer he puts in front of her. "He said I have control issues, that I never let go of the reins."

He gives her a half a smirk as he takes her beer instead of reaching for another one. She isn't bothered. "Maybe it's not about you not giving up the reins, maybe it's about him not being man enough to take them."

She stares at him silently as he gives her a knowing look, his lips twisting in a challenging, frustrating amused grin. Before she can question it, before she can count all the reasons this is a bad idea, she's pushing aside her plate and climbing over the counter. He's ready for her, his hands supporting her back and her thighs as she wraps her legs around his waist. He doesn't kiss her right away, he looks up at her giving her time to understand what's about to happen, what's about to change. It's his way of giving her an out, giving her control. He must have found what he's looking for because his smile turns sincere.

She reaches out and touches his face, tracing the fine lines. "Why did Allison break up with you, Jason?"

The side of his mouth quirks up at the use of his first name. "She thought I was too close to my partner."

He presses her against the counter, his hand treading through her hair as he pulls her face to his. His lips touch hers and it's like she's touching live wire. There's no hesitation, not testing the waters from his part. He knows what he wants and it's her. It's a heady thing to realize. As his lips open her mouth and his tongue snakes in, dueling with hers, his hands are pushing aside her blazer and holster away. It should bother her that her things are now on the floor of his greasy spoon, but she's too far gone to care as he opens her blouse. His rough callous hands are covering her silk covered breast, molding, shaping them; his nimble fingers pinching her nipples through her bra. She's grateful his lips have left hers in favor of biting at her neck, seeking her pulse point because she needs her mouth free to gasp for the breath he's stealing away from her with his hands and mouth. She thinks she has control over it when his mouth covers a now-free breast. She chokes on a cry. His mouth, his wet hot suction of pleasure and she's sure she's dying because no one can survive this kind of heat. Her core throbs and she can feel that she's already slick and wet underneath her slacks and underwear. He bites down softly on her rosy nipple and she can't help but buckle against him. She moans as she feels against her his need for her between his thighs. He pushes back against her, and she would laugh at the fact that they are two grown adults, two cops and they're dry humping like a couple of teenagers. If it wasn't for the fact that every time he presses against her she feels a jolt through her body. It's too much and yet not enough. She needs skin, under her hands, under her own mouth. She needs him unhinged as her. He has made her lose control so easily, without argument, without struggle.

"Jason…" She whispers, her voice unrecognizable even to herself; it's deeper, sultry. She's Casey Shraeger, when has she ever been sultry? It's why she sucked as a hooker for Vice, there wasn't a sexy bone in her body.

"I beg to differ." He answers against her ear as he kisses right below it. She flushes as she realizes she has said the last part out loud and is thankful he's entertained with other things.

She clears her throat, drawing his attention. He gives her a question brow and she suspects he thinks she has changed her mind. She shakes her head and nodded to the back room. He smiles in understanding and pulls back, letting her slide back to ground. She grabs her things from the floor and starts for his bedroom as he turns the sign at the door to _closed_, locks up and turns off the lights. She drops her clothes near some of his, places her gun next to where he's left his and waits. She can hear him moving outside making sure everything is shut off. She realizes she has never spent any real time back here and now she's standing in his private space topless and with her pants and shoes on. Quickly remedying the situation, she sheds her shoes, socks and slacks. She's not a shy woman and it would be ridiculous to start now and act like they both didn't know how this is going to go down.

She's standing in her simple black hip hugger underwear when he walks into the room. He doesn't say anything, he just watches her as he starts to shed his own clothing, his plaid shirt first, his muscle tee next. He takes his time, there is no rush in his movement as he unbuckles his belt and unsnaps his pants. She can't stop looking as more skin appears, she hears a thud followed by another and she knows it's his shoes he kicks off. His pants hang low on his hips for a moment before he pushes them off, too. He doesn't take of his boxer-briefs and she knows it's about equal ground.

He walks up to her, his hands going to her hips above her panties. She feels his fingers trace the edge of them before curling them inside. He slowly pulls them down, sinking to his knees as he drags them past her thighs, her knees until they lay at her feet. She looks down at him and finds him already staring up with his clear blue eyes. She runs her fingers through his hair, clinging to it as he pressed his lips to her pubic bone. He doesn't stand, he doesn't lay her on the bed, instead he closes his arms around her, holding her in place as his tongue traces her slit, parting it, opening her to his mouth. She lets out a shout as his tongue presses against her clit. Her leg muscles tighten up, trying to keep her standing at his assault. He knows where to touch her, where to lick, where to kiss to leave her mindless. She's babbling, her mouth is open and words are coming out but for the life of her she doesn't know what she's saying. They're a mixture of pleases and don't stops, all broken and choked out as her body heats up and as she breaks, splinters she can dimly feel him smiling against her heated flesh. She's practically straddling his face, grinding against it as her orgasm seems to continue forever. It's only after her body stops shaking that he slowly rises. He doesn't let go of her and she knows he's the only thing holding her up. At his full height, he looks down at her with his mouth shiny from her release and twisted into a smirk that doesn't leave his face as he leans down and shares with her what she tastes like in a slow dragged out kiss.

He turns them around so that his back is to the bed now and he moves back, leaving her standing there as he removes his underwear. He lays in the middle of his bed, reaches over to his left and stick is hand in the bedside table. She's not surprised when he pulls out a condom. She is surprised, though, when he throws it on his stomach and places his hands behind his head and waits for her. His eyebrow arched at her. She takes him all in. He's not like some cops who really live off of donuts and coffee and have the gut to prove it. His body is lean and defined. His abs proof of exercise and physical fitness, his arms strong and muscular. He's gorgeous and hot; she's known this from the first time they met and now she gets to appreciate it. She gets it. He's waiting for her to take her turn, to take control. He's giving it back to her. It's his way of saying they don't have to fight for it; it's there to be shared by both of them. They are a lot alike. Both used to doing things their way and nobody else's, it isn't easy for him anymore than it is for her.

She climbs into bed with him, her legs at either side of him. There'll be time later for all she wants to do to him, but, right now, she needs to put them both out of their misery. He's acting all cool and relaxed, but he's hard as a rock and straining between her thighs. She takes a hold of him with one hand and pumps him slowly. It's her turn to smirk as he shutters his eyes closed at her touch. She can see his jaw working overtime as he clenches it and the way the veins at his throat become visible when she circles her thumb around his weeping tip. He opens his eyes in time to see her bring her thumb to her mouth and taste him. He lets out a growl at the sight that is full of warning and heat causing her stomach to clench with need. She grabs the condom and quickly unrolls it on him. Placing her hands against his pecs, she rises to her knees and brushes her slit against his shaft until his tip is pressed against her opening. She holds herself in place for a moment as she looks down at him.

"Casey." He growls, his voice deeper than she's ever heard it and his face is flush as he tries to restrain himself from thrusting upward into her.

She knows how he's feeling all too well and sinks all the way down, she throws her head back, lost in the feel of him inside her. She's so full of him, it feels like he's everywhere and it's too much but she can't stop from wanting more. He seems to agree because his hands are no longer behind his head but at her hips making her move. She pushes up and sinks back down, developing a rhythm as he helps her ride him. The room echoes with their moans as they move faster against each other. She feels the ache in her legs but she doesn't care, all she cares about is the climb her body is making, and the pulsing of his body as he climbs too. His hand snakes between them and he's playing with her clit, pulling and pushing and it's enough, she tumbling over the edge again as she shouts out his name. She's riding her second orgasm out when he flips them over, his hands raising her legs to his shoulders and pushing inside her, thrusting fast and deep as he breathes hard. She watches him above her, his hair is wet with sweat and is pasted against his forehead, and he has an intense expression as he locks eyes with her. He thrust two more times before coming. He sinks to his elbows and presses his face against her neck.

Repeating her name like a mantra. _'Casey, Casey, Casey, Casey, Casey, Casey,_' against her skin.

They lay like that for a while, with his body covering hers and she doesn't mind. She's smiling even though her eyes have welled up from the intensity of the moment they've just shared. And she spends those moments running her hands over his shoulder blades, feeling his body start to cool. When he rolls off her, he pulls her to his side and tilts her face to his. He doesn't say anything at the tears. He just brushes them away with his thumb and presses his lips against her hair.

And just like that, they're this, they're them. Shraeger and Walsh. Casey and Jason. Partners. Lovers. Equals. He doesn't hold his power over her. She doesn't hold hers over him. They share it, giving it to each other without hesitation. He was right, it wasn't about her not giving Davis the reins; it was about him not knowing how to take them and then give them back. Jason knows. He doesn't even have to ask for them, he knows they are there for the taking.


End file.
